Untitled
by elliewell
Summary: George is struggling to survive following Fred's death, and is begrudgingly pushed to abide by the new Marriage Law. Can he learn to be happy with the stranger he is paired with, and what past is she hiding in her own quiet way? George/OC, rated M for future lemons, short snippets of violence, and language. My first HP fiction, please read and review! (Untitled for now)
1. Chapter 1

It had been three months since the battle at Hogwarts had ended the second war with Voldemort, and the wizarding world was trying to bugger on as best it could. The reconstruction efforts had been vast within the English borders as well as outside them, with each ministry of magic working to not only rebuild what had been lost, but also create what was necessary to survive.

The population of magical individuals had been struck with a blow that many feared would forever cripple the worldwide wizarding community, and so all types, purebloods, mixed bloods, and muggleborns were brought into the new age of wizardry with a law that would forever change the lives of its youth.

The Magical Marriage decree stated, rather formally and coldly, that all witches and wizards of marrying age who were not already engaged to be married were required to find a spouse, and find one soon. Regardless of the outcry of thousands of young magical folk around the world, a six-month time limit was set in order to find a partner. If a person was unable, or unwilling, to do so, they would be paired with another who had faced the same difficulty (or stubbornness). To defy this law would be to put oneself in prison.

Many, if not most, who were of age for the arranged marriage found themselves a friend, school crush, or potential love interest within the six months, fearing whom their ministry would set them up with. A few, those who had dragged their feet or thought the law would be repealed before the time limit was up, found themselves receiving letters from their government with a simple date, time, location, and name written upon it, as well as the hinted-at threat of what would happen if they did not show.

And so, on February 10 at precisely ten minutes until ten o'clock in the morning, George Weasley found himself being dragged, literally, down a snow-covered Diagon Alley by his younger brother Ron, his new wife and best friend Hermione, their best friend Harry, and his sister Ginny, who was days away from saying her vows to the dark haired, bespeckled young man beside her.

"George, you haven't got a choice, you've read what the ministry is going to do to people who don't listen to the law," Hermione chided as they walked quickly down the road. She had one hand wrapped around George's bicep, the other clasped firmly in Ron's hand. The younger Weasley huffed and puffed as he tried to keep up in the bitter cold.

"Maybe it will actually be really nice George, maybe she will be wonderful," his sister, holding his other arm, said reassuringly. She looked worriedly at George's face, which was partially obscured by a thick hat that came over his forehead and cheeks.

George said nothing, as was his way since his twin and best friend had died in the final battle at Hogwarts. He looked at the ground, at the snow covering his shoes and the uneven cobblestones beneath his feet, and tried to think of a way out of what was about to happen. He could not apparate, as Hermione and Ginny were holding him firmly to keep him from trying to disappear and splinch them all, and he could not run, because eventually he would be found. He wondered if prison would be better than what was facing him.

It had been a difficult nine months for George, months filled with trying to find normalcy alone in a world that he had always faced as part of a pair. He had spent much of his time crying, much of it drinking, and much of it contemplating offing himself to see Fred again. He had never, not since the day he was born, been alone, and he was sure that it was slowly killing him.

George had stopped attending weekly dinners at the Burrow, had stopped writing his mother, and had stopped contacting anyone outside of his apartment. The only visitors he had were the four dragging him along to his fate, and they were only permitted because they used their wands to break in when he didn't answer.

The owl that was supposed to deliver the marriage decree to him six months ago had, after hours of trying to get into his flat, brought the letter to the Burrow, where the family decided what needed to be done. They had told him as gently as they could, had been thrown out quietly and coldly from his flat, and had come back months later to collect him to keep him from prison.

They were scared for George. He never laughed, never smiled, and never cracked a single joke. It was as if, to everyone who knew him, he had died along with Fred. The sullen, unkept man they had happened upon earlier that morning was a mere shadow of their brother and friend, and only after a forced shower, forced shave, and forced change of clothes did he even begin to resemble who he had been.

"Maybe she'll be a fox," Ron said, snapping George out of his escape plans. He smiled at his brother, trying to make light of the situation, and received only a defeated scowl in return. Hermione stared down her husband, wanting to smack him for trivializing the woman they were about to meet.

They arrived at the address the letter had led them to, and entered a large hall of sorts, one in which banquets and parties were held for those who could afford them. They were greeted with a din of mingling voices, of people looking for others and greeting them awkwardly. The group was surprised that so many had waited for the deadline, and recognized a few of their schoolmates floating about the room.

"You can let go of me, I'm not going to run," George said flatly, straightening his coat when Ginny and Hermione finally released his arms. He felt defeated at the sight of those around him, those who would be hurriedly getting married to strangers within the week.

Hermione pulled the letter from the ministry out of her pocket and looked at the name on it for the thousandth time. "Birdie McElroy," she said, eyes scanning the room as if she could spot the woman based on her name alone.

"I still can't get over that name," Ron said, chuckling. "Who has a name like that?"

"I do," said a small voice behind them.

The group whipped around quickly, Ron's face already reddening from embarrassment. He bit his lip and smiled apologetically, trying to think of what to say.

"I think," Hermione said, resisting the urge to kick her partner. "Ronald only meant that it's a very unique name." Ron nodded his head emphatically, grateful to have his quick-thinking wife beside him. "I'm Hermione," she continued, smiling and extending her hand. "It's lovely to meet you."

Birdie shook her hand shyly and chewed on her lip. Ron, Ginny, and Harry introduced themselves, all shaking her hand and trying to make her feel comfortable.

"And this," Hermione said, pulling George forward from where he had stood behind the group, suddenly uneasy and a little nervous, "is George Weasley."

George muttered a hello and looked at the woman who was slated to be his wife, trying to take her appearance in without seeming like a creep.

She was shorter than him, only coming up to his shoulder, and, from what he could see in her heavy coat, fuller and curvier than Hermione or Ginny. She had tousled light brown hair cut to her chin and bangs that very nearly fell into her eyes, which were a deep, dark blue. She continued to chew on her bottom lip and said a quiet hello back.

Hermione tried to figure out what to say, and decided to say nothing at all, instead pulling Ron and Harry back out the door and into the cold with Ginny. George and Birdie stood awkwardly together, neither one knowing where to begin.

George, who had begun to sweat from the hot room and also his nerves, pulled his hat off and gripped it tightly in his hands. His hair, which hadn't been cut since Fred had been alive, tumbled into his face. He brushed it aside and tucked it behind his right ear, glancing up at his betrothed.

"Do you…do you want to sit down somewhere?" he asked, looking around the room for anywhere they could go to get away from the throng of people.

"Okay," she responded quietly, and she followed him through the crowd and into a small alcove, where he held out a hand to gesture her to sit.

They sat awkwardly for another moment, and then both began to speak at once. George smiled slightly, his first smile in months, and told her to go on.

"Your hair is very red," she said, trying to make small talk.

George smiled and nodded, saying that it was a family trait, and realized her accent. "Are you American?" he asked, trying to maintain eye contact for a few seconds.

Birdie nodded. "I'm from New York," she replied. She thought for a moment, trying to spur on the conversation. "This is actually my first time out of the country."

George suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness for her, at the thought of her being required to leave her home for a stranger in a strange place. "You didn't…there wasn't anyone there that you wanted?" he asked, before realizing that this sounded a little rude.

Birdie shook her head, and didn't elaborate.

"Did your family come with you?" George continued, fighting to keep his voice from sounding strained. It was the most talking he had done in months, and words felt odd in his mouth.

"No, I came by myself. I...um, I didn't think to look for anyone back home. I thought the law would be repealed before they forced me to marry anyone. No offense."

George barked out a laugh, and it sounded unnatural to him. "None taken." He picked a loose thread off of his pant leg and drummed his fingertips on his thigh. "I um…I have a bit of a large family."

"Were those your brother and sister?"

George inwardly cringed at the word brother, wishing that the one brother he needed most was there cracking jokes and making him feel better about what he had to do. "Yeah, Ginny's my only sister, but I've got three brothers besides Ron." It should be four, he thought, clearing his throat to keep himself from taking the deep breaths that would lead to sobbing. "And my mum and my dad. And now I guess everyone's wives as well. Oh and Harry, but he's been family forever anyway."

George hadn't gone to a single wedding in his family, and they hadn't pushed him, knowing that being surrounded by his family was painful without Fred around.

"That is a bit large," Birdie said, smiling at the thought of it. She had never known what it was like to have a lot of siblings, and wondered if she would enjoy it. She'd heard of Harry, Hermione, and Ron, as everyone around the world had, and wondered how they all existed within the same family.

She picked at her cuticles nervously, not knowing what to say, and thought about the man before her that was soon to be her husband. Back home, before the war in the England and the law following it, Birdie had never even thought of marriage, had never thought of anything that far into the future. She had focused on finishing school, which she had done months before, and on trying to think of a job that wouldn't bore her to tears or make her feel trapped. She thought, as far as potential husbands went, that George seemed nice enough, though something about him told Birdie that he was carrying some huge weight she couldn't place.

"My mum wants to meet you," George said, rubbing that back of his neck. He hadn't even seen his mother in a few months, and was anxious at the thought of it. She had lost her son the same day he had lost his twin and best friend, and George thought that she'd never be able to look at him without seeing Fred as well. "She's…well she just wants to meet you."

Birdie nodded, knowing that meeting family was the least of her problems. She cleared her throat and fidgeted. "Are we going to see her now?" she asked, looking around at the room and the thinning crowd. Everyone seemed to be leaving with their new partners, off to start lives that were foreign to the lot of them.

George reached up to tuck his hair behind his right ear again, and wondered absently what she would think of the missing left one. "Do you want to? I mean, it's Sunday so the entire family will be there, if you want to go through that."

Birdie thought for a moment. "I'm going to meet them all eventually, so why not? If…if you want."

George nodded and stood, pulling his hat back on with quaking hands. She stood in front of him, hands clasped in front of her.

George realized something. "I'm sorry, I never actually introduced myself. I let Hermione do it for me like a prat." He reached his hand out to her and smiled a small, only slightly forced smile. "I'm George Weasley, the bloke you have been unluckily stuck with by the government." As he shook her hand, he realized that he meant the last part, and felt bad that she was paired with him. He was barely able to hold himself together, and wondered how long he could keep up the small talk before retreating.

Birdie's hand was small and cool in his, and she smiled genuinely back at him. She mustered all of her boldness as she released his hand. "I'm Birdie McElroy, the woman lucky enough to have met you today."

George stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, and cleared his throat, holding his arm out to let her go ahead of him. They walked in amicable silence to the door and out into the cold, where the quartet of his family was waiting. He pondered the young woman beside him and thought, just for a moment, that perhaps she could make him remember who he was.

The group, waiting anxiously, noticed a small smile tugging at the corner of George's mouth, and looked at one another as excitedly as they could without being found out. Perhaps this girl was just what George needed, just what they needed to bring him back.

One at a time, they each stepped into the Floo activated fireplace at the Leaky Caludron, and loudly exclaimed, "The Burrow!"


	2. Chapter 2

The Burrow had always, at least since the day Arthur and Molly Weasley had moved in, been a place to call home to anyone who came there, and all were welcomed warmly by the sight of it. Seeming to be a house atop another house, it stood haphazardously crooked in the middle of a large field that was surrounded by nature.

Birdie, having arrived in the living room only moments before, did not know what the Burrow looked like from the outside, and tried to take in her surroundings while she coughed and brushed the ash from her clothes. She smiled at the coziness of the room, which some may have called cluttered, and was surrounded by a horde of redheaded individuals in no time at all. She backed up instinctively, bumping into the chest of the newly arrived George, who stuttered out a quiet apology before brushing himself off.

The family, who had greeted Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione upon entering the room, stared for a long moment at Birdie, and at George. Not one of them had met Birdie before, nor had they expected to so quickly, and none had seen George emerge from his flat for months. Nobody really knew how to greet him.

"Mum," called one of the ginger men at the far right of the room, his gnarled hand wrapped around a young woman's beside him. "They're um…they're here."

"Coming," shouted a female voice from the other room. Molly Weasley walked into the room with her eyes down, wiping her hands on her apron. "How did it go with George? I didn't think you four would come so early, I would have put out sandwiches for-" She looked up, and saw everyone staring at her, waiting with baited breath for her reaction to their additional guests.

She barely saw Birdie standing in front of her son, didn't even register the strange young woman in her living room. She stopped in her tracks and let out a long breath.

George cleared his throat. "Hi mum," he said quietly, wishing everyone would stop staring at him. He glanced over at Birdie, who looked confused at the reception her betrothed was getting. She caught his eye for a moment and moved to stand near Hermione when Molly marched across the room and towards her son.

She caught him in a bone-crushing hug, knocking the wind out of him upon contact. George wrapped his arms around her and listened to her ministrations and chidings, shrugging when she asked him how he could keep away so long. Birdie heard her future mother-in-law and was slightly confused, wishing she knew more about what was going on.

"Um, mum," George said, pulling back a bit. He held his mother at arms length and glanced over at the slightly horrified looking young woman next to Hermione. "This is Birdie, my…um…yeah, you know."

Molly spun, finally seeing Birdie, and wiped her face quickly, trying to brush aside the tears she had spilled. She stepped lightly over to the young woman and hugged her, much more gently than she had hugged her son, and pulled away laughing slightly. "Oh I'm sorry dear, I'm probably such a mess! I'm Molly, and I promise I'm not always like this. We just haven't seen George in such a time."

George shot his mother a look that could kill and she hushed up, instead telling Birdie how wonderful it was to meet her and was she hungry? Birdie shook her head and smiled, still nervous but happy to be greeted so warmly. She thought about what Molly had said about not seeing George for so long, and wondered about it, pondering if it was okay for her to ask him about it.

She barely had time to consider it when she was being introduced to those around the room, a collection of redheads and their partners, whose names she desperately tried to remember.

When she reached the last warm handshake, she jumped slightly at George coming up beside her.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "You'll remember them all eventually, I only forget their names once or twice a year." He looked around the room and found someone to be missing. "Where's dad?" he asked no one in particular. A dozen voices answered that he was in the garage, tinkering with some sort of muggle contraption.

George settled his hat onto his head and buttoned the top button of his coat. "I'm going to go say hello to him…do you want to come with me? He's kind of mad about muggle things, he's got an old car out there that he's trying to fix completely without magic."

Birdie smiled and nodded, wanting to escape the rumbling living room for a moment to catch her breath.

George led the way through the house and to the back door, which he opened for Birdie. She walked through and into the cold, the wind blustering around her. She was blown into George as he shut the door, and apologized shyly, putting her hands in her pockets.

The path from the house to the garage had been cleared by Arthur, who insisted on shoveling it like a muggle rather than ridding the path of snow with his wand. He had, halfway through, given up on that method, and the sudden straight lines of the path showed this.

Birdie turned around to look at the house behind them, wondering how so many people could fit within a single dwelling, and slipped on a patch of ice, nearly toppling onto the ground.

George, his reflexes still quicker than most due to years of quidditch and practical jokes, caught her before she made contact with the ground, holding her bicep and forearm tightly with both hands. She clung to him without thinking and, upon regaining her footing, smiled at George, thanking him and apologizing for her clumsiness.

He let go of her arm and stuck his hands in his pockets, muttering about the enchantments his parents had put on the house to get everyone to fit into it. She listened, genuinely interested, and walked onward at his side.

As they reached the garage, George held the door open for her and let her enter first, not noticing the entire family watching from inside the Burrow.

Arthur, who was underneath his car when the door opened, shouted to shut the bloody door before he froze to death. He slid out from his position to see who had interrupted his tinkering time and, upon seeing George with a strange young woman, nearly smashed his head into the underside of the bonnet.

"George?" he asked, pulling himself up. He wiped his hands on a grease rag and walked tentatively over to his son.

"In the flesh," George responded flatly, wanting to shout at his father that it couldn't be anyone else. "And this is Birdie," he added, nodded over to her.

Arthur covered the distance between them in mere seconds and hugged his son tightly, having missed him more than he could possibly say. He said the same things his wife had, about how good it was to see George and how bad it had been to not have him around. He pulled away sooner than Molly had, and sniffled for a moment before turning to Birdie.

"A friend of yours?" he asked George, the ministry's decree escaping him for the moment. He shook Birdie's hand and welcomed her to their home, telling her that friends were always wanted.

"Uh, no dad, she's my…" he looked at Birdie, trying to think of the right word.

"The ministries paired us up," she finished, not wanting to say any word relating to marriage just yet. "For…the law."

"Law?" Arthur asked absently, searching his brain for what they could be talking about. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "Oh! The law. That law! Yes. Right. Well, erm…welcome to the family, as it is."

Birdie strained a smile, wishing she could meet these people under different circumstances. They all seemed so warm, so loving, and she wondered how much they would like her if they weren't being forced to accept her into their home and family.

"Yeah…we'll see you inside dad, when you're done," George said, leading Birdie away. He knew that his father was easily flustered, and didn't want to scare Birdie away with his father's verbal clumsiness.

She followed him out and walked carefully back to the house, sure to avoid the spot she had fallen on before. They entered the kitchen, where everyone very obviously was pretending to be busy. George excused himself, leaving her with Hermione and Ginny, saying that he needed the loo. Everyone glanced up at him leaving, and again Birdie wondered what she didn't know.

She took her coat and scarf off and handed them to Molly, who begged her to make herself at home and asked again if she was hungry. Birdie smiled and shook her head, saying that she would be in a little while for certain.

Trying to feel comfortable, she sat on the couch with Hermione and Ginny, smoothing her jeans down onto her thighs nervously.

"It's kind of overwhelming at first," Hermione told her, trying to be reassuring, "but you get used to them all being about." She gestured to all of the brothers and Harry, who were very heatedly discussing a quidditch match. Ginny was dying to join the conversation, but knew that Hermione would box her ears if she left the couch.

"So, Birdie, where are you from?" Ginny asked, trying to take her mind off of the boy's discussion.

Birdie said that she was from New York, and talked about where she had gone to school when Hermione asked.

"So you're the same age as me," the brunette said, smiling. "And Harry and Ron as well. George and…erm, George is two years older." She looked nervously at Ginny, who was thankfully absorbed in eavesdropping on what Harry was saying.

"Can I ask you something?" Birdie asked, her voice unintentionally low in the loud room. The girls nodded. "I heard Molly…your mom I mean, say that George hasn't been here in a while. Has he been away on business or vacation or something?"

Hermione looked at Ginny, whose eyes flashed with momentary sadness. She started to speak when Ginny cut her off.

"You're going to hear it eventually anyway, so you may as well hear it now…to prepare you I guess."

A wave of dread washed over Birdie, and she wondered what George could have done to keep him away from his family, who so obviously wanted him around.

"All of us," Ginny said, motioning around the room, "at least all of us in the family then, were in that last fight, at Hogwarts. The one that ended it all." She took a deep breath, stoically keeping her voice steady. "George included. He…he and his friend picked off a really powerful death eater, but you'd never hear him brag about it or anything now, not since…" she drifted off, and nodded to Hermione to finish.

Hermione looked very seriously at Birdie. "George suffered the greatest loss in that battle, greater than all of us. In…in the heat of it all, he got separated from his best friend and…" she cleared her throat and soldiered on, the memory of that night still very vivid in her mind. "His best friend and twin, his twin Fred. They got separated and Fred was killed."

Birdie sat there staring at her hands, unable to look at the two young women next to her who were struggling not to cry. She wanted to apologize for asking, for prying but knew that she had to find out about it eventually.

She stood abruptly, feeling as though she was intruding on their sadness, and said that she needed the bathroom, going off in the direction she had seen George go. She went softly up the stairs and sat on the top step, wondering what she would do if she were in George's position. Yes, she had lost a lot in her life, but never so severely. She realized the burden that he was carrying and sighed, imagining her life with someone who must be so incredibly sad. Could she make him happy? Could she be happy? Suddenly, the marriage law seemed especially unfair, and she wanted nothing more than for it to be repealed.

Birdie heard the sound of muffled sobs coming from behind a door at the end of the hallway, and she stood, creeping closer and closer to them. She passed the vacant bathroom on her way, and knew who was in the room immediately. She put her ear to the door and knocked lightly, her knuckles barely rapping on the wood.

"George?" she called quietly, not wanting to leave him in there alone.

"Just a minute," he replied, the tremor in his voice obviously being fought. She heard him stand and walk quickly to the door, and when he opened it, his face was nearly as red as his hair.

He looked down at her and wiped his face once more, embarrassed that she would see him that way. "Birdie," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Looking at him, she felt all doubt at her future melting away, and knew that she had no option other than to try to make the man before her happy. Without another moment's thought, she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her head into his chest, which heaved with a final shuddering breath. Surprised, George pulled her closer into his chest with both arms, feeling her warmth against his body.

"I'm so sorry George," she said, her voice muffled against his sweater. She gripped the material on his back with both hands and held him close to her, trying to make him feel even the slightest bit better. He wavered in his stance and she pulled back, still holding onto him. "Let's sit down okay?"

She pulled him into the room and sat beside him on the bed that he had walked to, putting her arms around his middle and her head against his shoulder. George, feeling comfort that he hadn't felt in some time, rested his head on hers and stared at the empty bed across from them. For a while, they just sat there, George shakily crying over the loss of Fred, and Birdie calmly and quietly crying over George.


	3. Chapter 3

After what seemed like a very long time but was, in reality, only about ten minutes, Birdie could hear voices calling her and George's names from the stairs. She pulled herself away from him, his head dropping at the sudden loss of her own beneath it. She swiped quickly at her cheeks, ridding herself of as much moisture as she could, and stood up quickly, not knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry," George said, running his fingertips roughly down his cheeks. "I'm a bloody mess." He stood as well, and glanced over at the only person who had seen him break down in months, wondering why she hadn't run for the hills at the sight of him.

"Sometimes, you need to be a mess," Birdie replied, pulling out her wand. She pointed it at her own face and muttered a quick spell, then did the same to George, vanishing all traces that they'd been crying at all.

She stowed her wand back into its sheath beneath her sleeve and smiled at him warmly, hoping that he was all out of tears for a while.

"Thanks," George said quietly, studying her face in the dim light of the bedroom. She was, as he had thought when he first met her, much curvier than his sister and Hermione, and had a pleasantly round face that looked like it was prone to smiling. She was rather pretty, a fact which only added to his growing fascination with her, and his bewilderment that she hadn't found a partner before the deadline had forced them together.

Birdie shrugged, saying it was just a little spell, and turned to leave, to join the voices approaching.

George grabbed her arm gently and she turned back. "I mean…for that." He jerked his head towards the bed, at the rumpled quilt upon it. "For not leaving me alone."

She smiled, the warmth of it flooding her face easily. "Well, you're about to be my husband," she said, rubbing his arm. "You're going to have a lifetime of me not leaving you alone…whether you like it or not." She opened the door and walked into the hallway, her voice floating into the room saying that George had wanted to show her his childhood bedroom. She spoke easily, lightly, and as George emerged looking as though nothing was the matter, everyone present believed it, even if it was just for a moment.

They followed his family down the stairs, and Birdie turned to look at him, making sure he was all right. George caught the glimmer in her eye, a hint of trickery at their sharing a secret, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be happy with her.

At that moment, he didn't mind the law much at all.

Over dinner, which was set at an impossibly long table in the extended kitchen, Birdie was asked many questions about where she was from and what she had been up to before that day. She talked about her own school, the American equivalent of Hogwarts, which she had just recently graduated from at the top of her class. She spoke animatedly about her studies with Hermione for some time before anyone else could steal her attention away, and finally, when everyone was stuffed to near bursting, Molly asked about her family.

"Oh," Birdie said, her voice suddenly much quieter. She picked at her cuticles beneath the table. "Um, well, I'm half and half, wizard dad and muggle mom. One sister, too young for school yet. Not much to tell." She coughed slightly, and no one but George recognized the avoidance tactic. "So, how did everyone meet?"

Attention successfully diverted from her, Birdie let out a long sigh before listening to everyone's story. Not a single Weasley had needed to wait for the deadline to find them a match, other than George, and they all had lovely stories of meeting their spouses to share. Birdie was attentive, watching each couple talk animatedly about their pasts together, and George was attentive in watching her.

He wondered what kind of story she and he would tell in the future, about how they had met. Would they talk about being pushed together out of necessity, or fudge up something nicer? Would it need to be fudged at all? He had a million thoughts running through his head all at once, when finally one thought stood out unpleasantly.

George looked around the table at the people he loved most in the world, and felt a painful absence where Fred should have been. Birdie sat in his seat, to George's right, and glanced over at him. He was scowling deeply at the thought of Fred never having a story to tell about his own perfect match, and Birdie could tell that he was becoming lost within his own head. She had been that way so many times herself that it was simple to recognize, and she decided to be bold to keep him present.

Beneath the table, she inched her hand over to him, resting it lightly atop his own on his thigh. George jumped at the contact and looked at her, pulled from his miserable reverie.

Without thinking, he laced his fingers into hers and nodded, knowing that he could not break down again, not in front of his family. They were enjoying themselves so much and needed to laugh, regardless of his inner turmoil.

Birdie squeezed his hand and turned her head back to listen to Bill, rubbing the smooth skin at his wrist with her thumb. George put on a mask of happy indifference and pretended to listen, even smiling once when his mother and father talked about their meeting decades before. He didn't notice everyone stealing quick looks at him, wondering when he was about to snap, and only let go of Birdie's hand when it was time to clear the table.

Everyone stood, and everyone helped, and everyone split up before reconvening for a delicious dessert of cakes and puddings and pies. When finally family dinner was over, Birdie stood in the living room, saying goodbye to all of the couples who no longer lived in the Burrow.

Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were all that was left, and none of them wanted to go home before Birdie had left.

"Where are you staying dear?" Molly asked her as she collapsed onto the couch after a long day of cooking. Arthur sat besides her, nodding off.

"Oh um, I was just going to rent a room in Diagon Alley until…until everything is final," Birdie said, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

Molly nudged Arthur in the side and shook her head. "Nonsense dear, you can stay here with us, there's no need to go to that trouble."

Ginny, sensing her mother was just trying to fill the house again and would dote incessantly and irritatingly on Birdie, cut in before her mother could say another word. "You could stay with Harry and me at 12 Grimauld Place, it's too huge for us anyway. I mean, the paintings are a little creepy, but other than that it's not half bad." She shoved Harry in the side and he nodded, telling her that it would be their pleasure.

Hermione shared the same sentiments, though Birdie could tell from the look on Ron's face that he didn't want to share his flat with anyone but Hermione so soon into their marriage.

Birdied didn't want to put any of them out, and tried to reason with them. "Really, it's okay, I've already left my things at the Leaky Cauldron and Tom's expecting me and-"

"You can stay in my flat," George said quietly from beside her, and everyone turned to face him. Molly looked scandalized at the thought of her unwed son sharing his flat with his betrothed, but George continued on before she could say a single word. "There's the two bedrooms, and you'll be there soon anyway right? Unless we were moving somewhere else?" He shrugged, as though the idea was suddenly rather stupid, and was about to offer to take her to the Leaky Cauldron when Birdie spoke, surprising them all.

"Okay," she said, looking at George. "I'll stay with you. If it's not a bother."

George smiled shyly and walked over to the couch, leaning down to hug his mother and father. He nodded at his mother's warnings of behaving properly and sighed at her audibly.

"Thank you, for having me over for the day," Birdie said to Molly and Arthur, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Molly stood and hugged her tightly. "Welcome to the family," she said into Birdie's ear. "And you tell me if George does anything out of line, I promise I'll have his head for it."

Birdie laughed and accepted a hug from Arthur before turning to George. The other four said goodnight and apparated on the spot, heading home to their respective residences.

"We can side-along if you don't want to floo," George said, offering her his arm.

Birdie nodded and waved goodbye to her future in-laws, suddenly nervous that she was going home with a man she had only met that day.

George pushed his hat down further onto his head and shut his eyes, thinking of the Leaky Cauldron. He followed Birdie inside to collect her things, of which there was very little, and then carried the lot of it out into the cold.

"Are we walking?" she asked, stumbling after him in the snow. She looked around and saw only shops, no residences at all.

George turned a corner and raised his arm with a fake flourish. "Welcome to Weasley's Wizarding Weezys, or, my home," he said.

Birdie followed him to the dark shop and walked into a dark alley. She took a deep breath and walked inside the building, trying to be optimistic about her new life.


End file.
